


Emotional Resistance And Cubical Trepidation

by Whitescruffydog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Manipulative Jerk (but not pure evil) Loki, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Possible Stockholm Syndrome, Pseudo-Science, Spoilers for all MCU movies!, post AOU AU, sentient weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitescruffydog/pseuds/Whitescruffydog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tesseract's tumultuous temptation still stings Selvig, slowly slipping his sanity away.  A war of wolves rears wildly as allies antagonize and enemies unwillingly unite.  Unfortunate love loops Selvig soundly, destination: destruction.</p><p>A war, a wakening, a warning: "do you know what happens when things that powerful are denied what they wish?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotional Resistance And Cubical Trepidation

**Author's Note:**

> I’m very fond of the sentient idea, both in the canon and in fanfictions, and how they are portrayed here, while drawing from canon, takes a lot of liberties and could be seen as OCs, so if that bothers you, you may not want to read. This takes inspiration from a lot of places, but I don't think it's similar enough to mark that box. Regardless, if you’d like any recommendations, involving the Tesseract, Loki, or Selvig, feel free to ask!
> 
> Characters belong to respective owners.  
> Also posted on FF.net. Title was changed in the interim.

** BEGIN:  PART I – PROLOGUE  **

 

Selvig dreams.

They’re chaotic dreams, with colors and _things_ —beyond description—a whirling mess of nauseating cosmic opacity that leaves him as, if not more, drained than when he went to sleep.  It wasn’t as if they were scary, per se, no, those were the electric nightmares that haunted his other days, where the screams and cries of those he helped murder howled around him as he prowled about as the embodiment of Loki. 

Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he swore that he saw Loki staring back at him. 

But no, these dreams were prominent, with their defining quality being the overwhelming **truth** they exuded. 

He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

He tried talking to the Hawk, but it became quickly apparent that despite having the same source, their problems were not the same.  The Hawk may be with a crippling sense of guilt, but not … **this**.  It wasn’t guilt that Selvig felt, not primarily, and not nearly as strong as it should be, and that itself was terrifying.

He **knew** that it was a result of being controlled, he **knew** that it was a result of prolonged contact with the tesseract, he **knew** that his sanity was failing, and he **knew** that his dreams were simply that, so why;

why;

were his instincts _screaming_ that something was going to **happen**?

It was a lose-lose situation, if he decided to fight the paranoia and anxiety, he only got medications piled on him, and if he decided to embrace it, everyone merely said that it was a figment of his imagination, that he needed more aid. 

And perhaps it was these feelings—loneliness—that kept him up more than anything. 

He quite basically _swan-dived_ into insanity—he honestly hadn’t felt like he had a choice.  The **truth** just weighed on him, waiting for his patience to burst, anxiety, paranoia, he wanted it to end, and maybe, if he stopped fighting…

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

He, honestly, tried not to think about the time under Loki’s control, regardless of what the therapists told him to do.  Because what he primarily recalled was not the death he wrought, not the cooperation with Loki, not the sabotage he implanted in the machine, but … bliss. 

He is a scientist and he hungers for the **truth** of the world, **truth** which the tesseract seemed to be filled with, **truth** which Selvig would be content to spend his life with.

He wished to slay the desire that burned within him. 

It was, at the very least, buried under the fact that it would never happen.  The tesseract would never be his, and that was for the best.

He shuddered to think what may happen if she ever became his. 

He slipped off.

He couldn’t tell you what triggered it, whether it was the whiff of something scientific happening around him, whether he was just too weak and fell, or whether it was something **cosmic**.

But even falling, he wouldn’t be parted from his dear science, and he worked, even as he was imprisoned in the psychological ward.  He worked, and he was rewarded for his efforts.

When he finally figured out the so-called convergence (even, if, perhaps, something _else_ was guiding him) nothing could describe his relief.  Finally, he could say something good came out of the event in New York, that maybe he wasn’t crazy (“There’s nothing more reassuring than realizing that the world is crazier than you are.”) and finally, finally, maybe his purpose was realized and it all could end. 

Perhaps he reacted a bit more enthusiastically about Loki’s death than he, in hindsight, should have, but, at that moment, it was just another sign that it was over.  (That wasn’t the only thing he was relieved about.)

And when he finally got to go home, he stood quietly in the kitchen, television the only noise in the background, staring out the window (into the vast cosmos) and wondered if it was truly over.

“She’s addicting, doctor.  Caution is advised.”

It took Selvig far longer than it should have to acknowledge the voice and even longer to move his gaze over to rest on the figure sitting on his couch.  “…What?”

The grinning visage of the deceased trickster illuminated by his television was the last thing Selvig needed to see.

“You’re…dead.”

“Oh, come now.”  Slow, confident, and meaningful footsteps echoed soundlessly across the kitchen as Loki come to stand within inches of the doctor.  Malicious eyes twinkled vehemently in the dull glow of the kitchen. “Do you think that would stop _me_?” the last word was spoken dangerously low, nonetheless a painful reminder of what Loki could— **would** —do. 

Selvig finally had the sense to step backwards, but his back hit firmly against counter. 

The phantasmal pariah leaned forward and placed a hand beside Selvig, gripping the counter strongly and staring through the framed glass, acting all the part as if Selvig wasn’t there.  He let out a breath, and for his life Selvig couldn’t figure out if he imagined the sway of his shirt.  “Her energy clings to you, doctor,” there was that term again, fractured unnaturally between the syllables, a mocking compliment—his achievements meant nothing.  “Her presence lingers—regardless of whether you wish to acknowledge it or not.”

Selvig was keenly aware of the transcendent before him, vivid memories of a much more unpleasant time sneaking up to his mind, getting ready to **snatch** and—

“She yearns for you.  And,” Selvig was sure the pause wasn’t imagined, just another way of drawing out the tension—frightfully effective, too, “do you know what happens when _things_ that powerful are denied what they wish?”  Before Selvig could reply—the variation in his pauses were rather annoying—he continued, “I cannot rule your world if she destroys it.”  Loki pulls away, stepping backwards and pulling out and sliding into a seat in one fluid moment. 

Selvig meant to pull himself up, stand tall and face the grinning colossus with the dignity of a man, but if anything, he slid down, supporting himself more on the sink.

“So,” Loki crossed his legs, daintily folding his hands atop them, and grinned triumphantly, looking as innocent as a bloodied tiger.  “I’m sure you see the _ahem_ benefits of joining me peacefully.”

“I won’t—“

“How **dare** you _defile_ my brother’s name!”

Selvig flinched violently, barely anchoring himself to the counter to stay standing.

The thunderous mirage of Thor faded as swiftly as it had appeared.

“You see, _doctor_ , I need no **tools** to control you.”

Selvig stared wildly, yet frozen, the sole defining movement being the repetitive clenching by his left hand of the fabric above his chest. 

“Now doctor,” Loki practically purred, half-lidded gaze staring calmly (yet twinkling with chaos), “do not fret, you are of no use dead.” He slowly lifted his hand, and all Selvig could do _before he_ —

—awoke in bed, the room spinning tumultuously about him, and he hadn’t the chance to turn around before the Loki reflected in his mirror vanished.

He had much to think about.

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

**Inexplicable** —!

Selvig exhaled, placing the cup back onto the counter, suddenly very glad that he wasn’t currently working with Jane on her studies. 

He couldn’t even tell if the experience with Loki was a dream or reality, and that virtually blockaded any other thoughts he could have on the matter.

The most frightening part was that if it were a dream, his mind knows the trickster far, far too well. He couldn’t find a hole in the phantom’s logic if his life depended on it (which it just might.)

Ah, how he longed for the **truth** of the matter!

But, alas, any resemblance of the truth brought his thoughts back to _her_ and the blooming possibility that maybe, just maybe, _she_ was alive and adored (not loved—no) him as much as he did her. 

And that was an unacceptable thought. 

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

Loki did not reappear, in reality or otherwise, and Selvig wasn’t sure if that was a sign of good or of his sanity faltering further.

It was a godsend enough that after the Convergence he seemed to calm fairly well, enough that he was capable of remaining out of an institute without question.  The colorful dreams subsided, and though the guilt still weighed in some corner of his mind, it didn’t feel all-consuming anymore. 

It just freed his mind to consider the situation with Loki.

For the time being, he had taken some time to himself (no one questioned it, not after alien invasions, even if the majority of the details were classified) and spent time more often than not sitting and staring off into the distance.

Be it by mind or by trickster’s mind, he was trapped.

He could tell no one of the situation, that much was clear.  Hell, even he wasn’t convinced it had actually happened.  But he couldn’t stand being treated as fragile and unable to care for himself.  (He had made it an important note to keep an eye on his health after that.)

It seemed as though he may have to revisit the dark times to get his answers.

Good thing he was off for a while. 

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

It started when he was summoned by Fury to the research lab.  He was instantly attracted to _her_.  Such a brilliant, blazing blue, he was hooked before he had a chance to comprehend what was occurring. 

_“She’s addicting, doctor.”_

But so, so, **stubborn**.

Resistant to nearly everything they thought to try, they only managed to get the most basic readings on her.  He knew there was so much more to be discovered, but he couldn’t help but feel helpless—humbled—before such an object.

A more childish soul may have called it puppy love.

(And yet, he was so naïve.)

(If it behaves, it must be … alive.)

(Now, he can’t help but wonder if she was truly willing to let Loki through.)

(“She cannot protect against herself…”)

When Loki came through, it was all Selvig could to do to stare and declare the God’s identity…

And then, when the scepter was placed to his chest, he could feel the energy invade him, simultaneously clouding and clearing his mind, opening him to a _universe_ of … **truth**.

It was bliss.

(It was hell.)

(Now, when he sat and thought about it, he could remember whispering in the back of his mind.)

(He could not understand, but now…)

(He knew: it was _her_.)

He could, quite clearly, remember designing the machine, quite clearly, remember designing the backdoor, quite clearly, feel **anger**.

(Whose anger…)

He could also quite clearly remember getting thrown by recoil from Iron Man’s blast.  (His forehead still ached sometimes.)

Then, of course, he had been freed from the control, and promptly informed Black Widow of the backdoor, and if he could have sworn he heard someone scream as the portal was deactivated…well, there was nothing to be done.

And if his heart cried more harshly than he wished as he sent _her_ off, well, there was nothing to be done.

(Why did everything still haunt him, then?)

And once again, Selvig exhaled, learning nothing new.  He was trapped amongst Gods and things beyond even that, and he was a mere human.

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

“I’m…not working right now.” Selvig was quickly searching for an out of the task requested of him, as something just told him it would be more trouble.

“That’s perfect; I fly you out here, we have our discussion, you can go back to … whatever it is you do.”

“I…”  Arguing with Tony Stark quite often did not end in your favor. 

“Come on.  Give it a shot.  I’ll fly you out, make you real comfy.  Nothing to lose.”

Selvig gives a resigned sigh, “When?”  He could hear the grin if not see it.

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

Tony… was unsure of his current emotional state.

Disgruntled, that his father _still_ continued to outdo him.

Excited, that it was something none of them even considered.

Bored, because he needed another opinion on it.

Annoyed, for the very same reason.

Curious, why he just now found it.

He awkwardly fingered the small book, blue, but otherwise unassuming.  A square was carved into the cover, and, well, Tony supposed that was all the title that it needed.

The information contained within…

Even Howard wasn’t sure if he was in his right mind.

But the possibility was too good to pass up.

He supposed he was much too like his father in that regard.

Finally—it seemed far too long—the doctor walked through the door.

“Jarvis, give us some quiet, please.”  It was an intentionally cryptic command that got a suspicious stare from Erik. 

“What’s this about?”

Tony let out an unsuppressed grin, “Please sit.”  He gestured unabashedly at the chair.

Selvig sat down, slowly.  The stare didn’t fade.  “The last time I accepted an off-the-books assignment…”

“Great!” Tony slid the book across the table.  It came to rest nary an inch from the edge, looking all the world to be innocent.

“ _No_!” Selvig hissed the word, emphasized by the eldritch _screech_ of the chair as it’s cacophonic clatter clanged off the walls.  “Absolutely not.”  He swiftly swiveled, stalking after the door and looking back not at all.

“Should I let him leave, sir?”

“Yeah,” Tony’s reply was distant; he was already thinking of how to get to where he wished to be.

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

Nothing to lose—!

Selvig forced himself to let out a shaky breath.  Damn, he should be absolutely **seething** , but, alas, he was shaken for the wrong reason. 

(What secrets did that little notebook hold?”

He could _not_ , would **not** , think of it. 

(No matter how much his heart _ached_ to do so.)

Maybe going back to work would be best for him.

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

It just seemed as though the universe would not let him rest.

That was the summation of his thoughts as he exited the universe to find a hoodied Thor waiting by his vehicle.  Selvig wasn’t sure if he covered his frown swiftly enough.

“How are you?”  Thor seems well, but Selvig’s extended silence is more than enough of a reply.  “I’m afraid you’re not the only one,” Thor continues, his grin fading into a frown as well.

For a while, they proceeded to the Water of Sights in silence.

“I am sorry that my brother continues to haunt you.”

Selvig took in a sharp breath, body freezing before he had a chance to catch himself.  He wanted to put Thor’s soul to rest (he did not deserve the guilt of his brother’s actions) but the **truth** of the matter was that Loki was potentially responsible.  He chose to dance around the topic instead.  “It’s…her.”

“Jane?”  The note of fondness (a light in the darkness) did not escape his notice.

But it was in that moment he realized that he never referred to the Tesseract as she in front of Thor.  His expression tightened as he tried to decide if he wished to tell the truth or –

“Here.”  Thor’s attention was instantly elsewhere, though he wasn’t going to let this slide, “I would like to hear about her later.”

Selvig let out a breath, thankful for the time to think what he would say.

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

“What brings you back here, Erik?”  The therapist spoke with trained politeness, with all the patience of the trained Shield agent he was.

Erik, for his part, had refused to take a seat, rather pacing around with the energy he’d failed to expend previously.  “I…”  The words died before the thought even started.

“May I remind you that I am authorized to receive all details of the experience?”

“Ah, yes— **that** , _that_ ’s not the problem.” He frowned, regretting the words before he even said them.

“Eliminating the source is the best way to solve the problem.”

“Yes, _she’s_ not here.”  If Erik could take back the longing in those words, …he wasn’t sure he would.

“Are you aware that you speak of the tesseract as a failed love interest?”

Erik chose to ignore the implications of the statement and instead retaliate with one he was sure would silence the man.  “Does the Hawk?”

“I am not—“ the therapist cut himself off suddenly, and Erik didn’t miss the pause of the always-constant scratch of the pen in his hand.  “No.  He does not.”

Erik paused, a hand coming to rest on the chair he should be sitting on.  His stare—blank, but a stare nonetheless—trailed downwards.  He had known that he and the Hawk had suffered different problems, but to hear it so bluntly…

“I know you feel alone, Erik,”

“I’m sure you do.”

“but Shield is supporting you,”

“I’m sure they are.”

“and you still have Jane and Darcy,”

“Yes.  Yes, I do.”

“so may I suggest talking to them?”

Selvig didn’t reply.

“It is true that it’s often easier to speak your troubles to a stranger—do you perhaps need a new therapist?”

Erik didn’t reply.

“Why did you return?”

Erik finally sat down.

“You know there’s a problem.” The therapist spoke so quietly, filled with a passion that for once made Erik question if it was truly faked.  “Say it.”

Erik did not.

“Erik.”

Erik looks away.

“Acceptance is the first step to recovery.”

Erik brings a palm to his face.

“Please, doctor.”  _She’s addicting, doctor._

“I … _may_ hold some sort of … affection … for the tesseract.”

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

Selvig was sincerely surprised he didn’t get drug into the conflict with Ultron.

It seemed to be a track record for him.

He was also surprised when he was invited to stay in the new Avengers Facility. 

And again when he accepted it.

Apparently, it was going to continue as well.  Now, it seemed as though his pursuit of astrophysics was taking him to the logical science fiction conclusion…studying aliens and the universe as a whole.

(He didn’t allow his thoughts to sway to **her** and the hope that one day they’d meet again.)

It was rattling to meet the conglomeration of JARVIS, the Mind Stone, and the vibranium-organic compound instead.

Yes, he received the reports of the incident, but it was different to be walking down the hall and have him step from around the corner.

For the moment, the two merely exchanged glances, Vision’s calculated and thoughtful, Selvig’s curious.

“You…” Selvig started, but fumbled over it, unpleased where his mind took him.  Unforunately, Vision finished the thought for him.

“Feel like her. I do, yes,” Vision tilted his head, expression softening, “A part of me comprises a sister of hers.”

Selvig tentatively took a step forward.

Vision promptly took a step back.

The silence was unsettling.

“I wanted to apologize,” Vision appeared as though he meant it.  “Through me—a part, of me—Loki took control of you.  I cannot change what has happened…but I hope this helps bring you rest.”

Selvig couldn’t verbalize a reply, but he hadn’t a need.

“Will you let me help you?  I’m afraid the situation with Loki is a huge mess between us—himself, myself, yourself, the tesseract, and Hawkeye.  It’s not a concern to me—but if it would help you, I would be glad to help sort it out.”

Many thoughts crossed Selvig’s mind.

“He is not interested in the offer.”  Vision grins softly, pride tinkling in his eyes.  “I’m afraid the effects weighed heavier on you.”

“Are you…reading my mind?”

“Yes.”  The distant reminiscence snapping out of his expression.  “I apologize, I usually try not to pry, but … your thoughts are hard to ignore—laced with her energy.”  _Her energy clings to you._   “It is for that reason I do not approach, as cumbersome as this distance is.  I would not wish to appear as challenging her claim.”

“ _Claim_?”

Vision paused for several long seconds, before starting his statement carefully, “We—the infinity stones—have a…  We view the world differently, yet we do not.”

Selvig cut him off there.  “You…speak…”  He was shaking badly now, and had to force himself to swallow his anxiety, speaking the rest of the statement very quietly, “as if they’re…alive.”  The last word was such a whisper that even Selvig was unsure if he said it. 

Vision closed his eyes.  “Yes.  And no.  Sentient, perhaps. I’m not sure I would say alive, per se.  However, the mind stone and the tesseract are…different.  By the very nature of the mind stone, it understands how thought works, what it is to think—be alive.  The tesseract…” There was an uncomfortable pause, Vision reopening his eyes, but Selvig doubted he truly saw what was before him.  “I apologize.  I do not know the full details regarding her position relative to life.  You would have to ask her yourself, but I would wager that she is … more alive, so to say, than our brethren.” 

Selvig forced his thoughts to disregard that piece of information, brought a hand to his forehead and began to rub in slow, massaging circles.  “I don’t understand.”

“Do not be alarmed, it is a very complicated situation,” a cool, quick urgency to calm Selvig flowed through the robotesque tones.  “While the relationship between any two stones at a given time is arbitrary, we generally do not infringe on each other’s possessions, whatever they may be at any given time.  To not do so is considered, well, rude.” A small grin grew across Vision’s face, but it faded fickly to a frown.  “I’m afraid that the situation in New York was awkward for all parties involved.  She…ah…did not appreciate my influence over you.”

Thunderous thoughts thrummed through Selvig’s mind, a multitude of mixed meanings, meddlesome possibilities of placating **pleasure** completely controlling his core.  “…What am I supposed to do with this information?”  Awe.  Pure awe.  So much to _understand_!  So much … **truth**.

A wave of curiosity washed through Vision’s expression, and he blinked once, twice, before vocalizing his considerations, “Are you in love with her?”  It was a **pure** question, not unlike _her_ and Selvig was humbled by the complete lack of judgment from the android.

And perhaps it was that total support that pushed Selvig to admit, “Yes.”

“In that case, I believe it is customary,” the barest hint of amusement seeped into Vision’s features, “to inform you that should you harm her, I shall be urged into action.”

Selvig would later deny the embarrassed squawk he released in response.  “I think she can take care of that herself!”  Not that he could ever imagine betraying her…  “I think,” calming down now, “I would like some time to think this through.”

“But of course.”  Vision took another step back, preparing to turn back the way he originally came.  “If I may suggest; speak to Tony about this.  He … is also interested.”

Selvig froze, suddenly remembering the little blue book he had so swiftly sought safety from.  “…Yes, thank you.”  Glad more than ever for the ending of the conversation, he too turned, and walked away. 

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

Work at the Avengers facility was _interesting_ , if not necessarily contributive to his sanity. 

He had never imagined that he’d get to work on something this huge—aliens, the great, vast cosmos…  The forerunner, even!  It was great, and if he did feel a bit disappointed that only a fraction of the world would ever get to see it...it was worth it.

He had forced the thoughts of her and Loki out of his mind, though the chilling similarities between his conversations with the latter and Vision crept up on him now and then.  By this point, the odd dreams of colors had faded completely and the cold vines of guilt had mostly subsided.  Now, only the continual ramblings of his own—sane—mind brought him pain.

That and the Avengers themselves.

“Hey.”

Selvig glanced up and turned around, coming face to face with Tony Stark.  He flinched a bit at the man’s proximity (it had **nothing** to do with _her_ ) before composing himself, “Yes?”

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation before you took off.”  It was said nonchalant, but Tony seemed to be examining his hands.  Selvig did not know him well enough to determine what that meant.

“Uh, yeah—“ Selvig wanted to quickly excuse himself from the conversation (not with the panic of before, but still) though he did not get the chance.

“Which Pepper said was a bit of a dick move, so…” Tony made a face that was some part a grimace, amusement, and possibly surprise.  “Just hear me out?  You said you’d give me that much and you bailed.”

Selvig, this time, was given the time to reply, but he stalled for too long.

“You’ve met the phoenix?”

Selvig blinked, completely overthrown by the question, “We have those now too?”

“I think he calls himself Vision or something along those lines.”  A shrug.

“Oh.” Briefly, Selvig wondered if he and the android were collaborating on the situation.  Tony did play a part in making him, yes?  “Yes, I did,” he finally answers.

“Good.”  But beyond that, he did not elaborate.  “That book—it was Howard’s, I guess.  His own research on the Tesseract.  He apparently created what we already knew as a decoy derived from his real research.  I want to know if it’s true, and I think if you read it, you will too.”

Selvig gave a great sigh, and chose his words carefully, “The problem isn’t that I don’t—it’s that I do.  I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” The ache of _her_ again…

Tony got closer and his voice got lower, “After the phoenix, I think what he wrote in that book is true, and you’re the only one here with enough experience to validate it.  You give me the word, I will get you transferred and we can go to my tower, work on this, and figure it out.”

Selvig’s mind was not doing a good job of saying no, “L…et me see the book, and … we’ll go from there.”

“I’ll be back.”

** [_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_][_] **

Selvig was now sitting at a table, the blue notebook in his hands.  He tentatively (yes, he handles **all** research as such, just not things related to _her_ ) flipped the first few pages.  They only contained various charts and graphs, which they, with modern technology, already determined themselves, and to greater precision. 

The pages after were less formal observations, handwritten by the man himself, noting such things as the various colors emitted, the apparent gyroscopic nature of the energy contained within, unprovable “behaviors,” and other irregular activities.

It continued on for some time and it was interesting, if nothing groundbreaking, until a very minor observation caught Selvig’s attention, and he froze.

Very much a minor, miniscule moment, possibly passed without wisdom.

In the span of one paragraph, Howard had ceased referring to **it** and began using _her_.

Selvig put the book down, and he was nearly certain his face had paled, “I’m not sure I wish to read further.”

“I’m guessing it started talking to him?” Tony straightened himself, pulling his feet off from the table where he had set them. 

“ _What?_ ”  Selvig would have fell over if he wasn’t firmly bracing against the table.

“Oh. Not there yet.  Where then?”  Brow crinkled, Tony leaned over the table.

Selvig wordlessly spun it around, pointing out the paragraph in question. 

“Is there some significance about that?  Thought it was just one of his eccentricities.”

“Myself, Loki, and Vision all refer to the tesseract as she.  It’s not something we coordinated, nor do I remember making the decision of calling her as such.”  Selvig stopped, slipping into thought.  “I never thought there may be a significance to it, but…”

  “You, the phoenix, an Asgardian, and another scientist all independently started calling ‘her’ as such?  Maybe, that’s why you’re here.”

Selvig stared at the book, now closed.

The conversation was interrupted however, by Vision who decided to phase in through the wall.  Both Tony and Selvig turned to look at him, though his attention was only on the former.  Speaking softly, with a voice bereft betrayal, lacking condemnation, he said, “You plan to retrieve the tesseract.”

** END: PART I – PROLOGUE **


End file.
